


Bucky Barnes and the case of Steve Rogers' disregard to personal safety

by daydreamblvr6



Series: blvr tropes her way through steve/bucky [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes' dirty mouth, Dom Bucky Barnes, Established Relationship, Hurt Steve, I think that covers it, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Steve Rogers, also sorta, also there's a lot of cursing bucky barnes has my mouth every time i write him, anyway i'm essentially working through my favorite tropes, because this got wildly out of hand, but with feelings!!! always with feelings, god what are the other relevant tags um, nope i lied one more:, oh wow where to start, okay um, sorta - Freeform, this one is, this wasn't even supposed to go in a smut direction i just couldn't fucking help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5629888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamblvr6/pseuds/daydreamblvr6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think I’m bleeding,” Steve admits, words muffled where his lips are tripping over Bucky’s shirt.</p><p>“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky responds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky Barnes and the case of Steve Rogers' disregard to personal safety

**Author's Note:**

> my first non-fade-to-black gay smut!! woo, go me. i don't have a cock nor have i ever seen one irl so here's hoping this works out all right. (i mean, i think it's pretty all right, but i am not the expert here.) please let me know if i should add any warnings, i honestly don't know what i'm doing.

“Buck,” Steve says, closing the door of his and Bucky’s apartment behind him.

Bucky turns back towards him, startled by the tone of Steve’s voice, and before he’s even fully facing him, Steve falls into Bucky’s chest.

“I think I’m bleeding,” Steve admits, words muffled where his lips are tripping over Bucky’s shirt.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky responds, frantic, hands patting all over Steve, trying to find where he’s bleeding, but between his metal hand and the glove over the flesh one, he can’t. He starts pulling at Steve’s uniform, trying to get him out of it.

“Sorry,” Steve says, in answer to Bucky’s panic. “I’m sorry. That was melo—” he coughs blood onto Bucky’s shoulder, “dramatic,” he finishes, hands clinging to Bucky’s arms.

Bucky has a moment of disbelief so profound he swears the universe is feeling it, too.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” he informs Steve, when he comes down from it enough to continue yanking Steve’s uniform off, still trying to find the wound Steve mentioned. “We were just at fucking medical; you could’ve had this looked at by a _professional_ and not be bleeding on our goddamn _carpet_.” He sounds hysterical, like a pre-World War II version of himself, hovering at Steve’s bedside, and it’s a little trippy. “Fucking sit down, you dumbass,” he clumsily hauls Steve to the couch, but is gentle when he lowers him to sit, stripping that uniform down past his shoulders, his pecs, and ah, there it is. Steve took something sharp between the ribs. Great.

“I’m gonna fucking,” he starts, looking up at Steve from where he’s kneeling at Steve’s feet. There’s blood on Steve’s lips and he’s dirty as hell. He looks more beautiful than god, probably. Bucky puts his flesh hand over the stab wound. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Steve laughs, pained, gestures at himself. “Now would be the time.”

Bucky almost feels himself leave his body again, just fucking flabbergasted at Steve who never fucking changed in all these god awful years.

“I wish you wouldn’t fucking joke about that.”

“You started it,” Steve retorts, indignant. “And can you stop looking at me like I’m some sort of hallucination you’re having? I’m real, Buck. We’re real.”

“You’re _unreal_ ,” Bucky says, can’t help it. Steve starts to talk again, but Bucky is _way_ outta patience for that shit. “You need to go back downstairs and get some fucking stitches, you absolute fucking _moron_.”

“Eight “fucking’s” in sixty seconds,” Steve responds, ignoring Bucky’s – really goddamn sound – advice. “That’s a lot.”

“There’s more happening in my head,” Bucky tells him, then gentles his voice. “But I'm pretty sure you’re suffering major blood loss right now, sweetheart, and I need you to focus, okay? Gotta stand up again and go back downstairs.”

“Why’d you make me sit down if you were just gonna make me get back up?” Steve grouches and, yeah, the blood loss is definitely catching up to him now.

Bucky starts to stand him up, trying to get Steve positioned so that Bucky can pick him up and carry him, bridal style, back downstairs where the others are still getting patched up from the mission. But Steve’s not having it.

“Buck, please, Buck. I don’t want to. It’s healing already anyway.” The hopeful note at the end makes Bucky indulge him, lifting his hand to check the wound.

Steve takes Bucky’s silence for confirmation. “See?” he says. “I told you.”

“Fucking,” Bucky mutters, mostly because he knows it’ll make Steve laugh. It does, a shaky little delighted thing ghosting on Bucky’s cheek. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get checked out, punk.”

“It won’t make any difference,” Steve points out. But Bucky’s not interested in any level of risk when it comes to Steve and his face shows it. Steve tries again. “Please? I just want you. Please, Bucky.” He sounds so goddamn sincere, so much like he’s making a confession that Bucky already knows he’s going to acquiesce. “I just want _your_ hands on me, okay? Not everybody else’s. It’s always everybody else’s.”

“Okay, Stevie,” Bucky assures him, nuzzling into his hair. “I’ll take care of you. Like when we were kids, right?”

Steve sighs deeply and slumps in Bucky’s arms. Bucky hadn’t noticed he’d been prepping for a fight.

“Will you take _fucking_ care of me?” Steve teases when he has his breath back.

“I’ll take care of fucking you,” Bucky amends and sees the instant desire in Steve’s eyes. “ _Later_ ,” he stresses, pushing a little against the wound to remind Steve of it. Steve groans in pain, but it’s edging on pleasure and Bucky just shakes his head at Stevie, his little masochist.

“We should at least stitch this up.” Bucky shifts back from Steve. Steve follows him, leaning into the space he just vacated. “Be easier in the bathroom.” Steve grunts his disapproval, sits back against the couch again.

Bucky smiles, pulls out the big guns. “Let me carry you?”

Steve isn’t big on being manhandled, never was, not that that’s stopped Bucky when Steve needed it. He especially doesn’t like it when he’s injured, has this thing about being a burden or some shit, but Steve’s weakness is being asked. Bucky tries not to exploit it too much. Well. Not enough that it would quit being a weakness.

Steve looks up at him from under the sweat-slick hair hanging in his face like he knows what Bucky’s doing. “Okay.” And then his pride gets him again. “Can’t get there on my own anyway.” With the feigned air of not having another choice, he lifts the arm opposite the stab wound to let Bucky come beneath it and scoop him up. He puts his own hand over the wound when Bucky removes his, working as a team as easily in this as anything else. Not even Steve’s rhythm with Sam compares to Steve’s rhythm with Bucky. It makes Bucky hot clear through; he just _boils_ with love for Steve.

He carries Steve carefully to the bathroom, pushing the door open with his shoulder, moving slowly so he doesn’t jostle Steve, who’s panting a bit against his neck.

“There isn’t much point to stitches, is there?” Steve says once Bucky has situated him gently on the lid of the toilet to sit. “It’ll heal up just fine on its own.”

Bucky, who’s running a washcloth under warm water at the sink, goes still. The water pours over his fingers, taking Steve’s blood down the drain with it. He takes a deep breath, wrings the washcloth out so it won’t drip, and kneels beside Steve again. Wiping at the blood on Steve’s chest, he says, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you.”

It isn’t a question and Steve doesn’t treat it as one, just groans a little when Bucky pushes the washcloth into the wound a little too deep. Bucky winces on Steve’s behalf, tries to go about the task more tenderly, before stopping to look Steve in the eye. “Have you done this since I’ve been back?”

“No, Buck,” Steve says, so earnest. “This is the first time, I swear.”

Bucky nods. “That’s good,” he tells Steve. “Because I like being able to trust you.” Steve’s breath hitches. Bucky continues, “And I was already starting to feel like I shouldn’t.”

Steve flinches, knocking against the back of the toilet with a clang that sends the lid of the basin clattering off until it hits the wall. He shudders a couple times, Bucky patiently waiting for him to recover with a hand on his hip.

“Jesus, Buck, you really don’t pull your punches do ya?”

And Steve does look like he’s been punched, jaw tilted away from Bucky like he took a crack against it.

“Not when I’m fighting for you,” Bucky answers and stands up, putting two fingers beneath Steve’s chin to angle his head for a kiss. He presses his lips soft and sweet to Steve’s, running his tongue over Steve’s top lip and sucking at it, does the same to Steve's bottom lip when he’s done. Steve’s mouth parts, his breath washing against Bucky’s lips for a moment before Bucky slips his tongue in at the invitation. It’s a slow kiss, gentle as he’s ever been. He pulls back finally and smiles at Steve, who can’t see it because his eyes are still closed. Bucky places a tender kiss on Steve’s forehead and Steve smiles, too.

“You’re right about the stitches though,” Bucky murmurs against Steve’s brow. “Too late for those. But we’re still putting some fucking butterfly bandages over it.” Steve lets out a put-upon sigh which Bucky has no time for. “It won’t kill you to be nice to your body for once, Steve, good fucking god.”

“There are more fun ways to be nice to my body, Buck.”

“You’re a fiend,” Buck replies, delighted. “If Stark could hear you, he’d have a fucking heart attack.”

“I can’t believe he thinks I’m a virgin,” Steve laughs. “Even now, when you and I’ve been together for months.”

“Honestly, I just don’t think he can handle the thought,” Bucky replies. He reaches for the medicine cabinet to retrieve the butterfly bandages he promised Steve. Steve’s stopped bleeding now, finally, and there’s no more blood on his lips, so his body’s probably already taken care of the internal damage. Bucky thanks every god that may or may not be real for the serum and all the ways it keeps Steve alive. He presses another kiss to Steve’s forehead for good measure before kneeling back down again.

With careful fingers, he applies the bandages, and Steve’s moans are more laced with pleasure than pain this time. Bucky feels his insides drop out, even though he’s heard it before. “God, Stevie,” he mutters, mouth pressed against the skin just about the wound.

“Is it later yet?” Steve asks, in the voice his twelve-year-old self had used to ask if they were getting ice cream. He’s gonna fucking kill Bucky someday.

“Nope, got other plans in the meantime,” Bucky says, whisking Steve back up into his arms. Steve tries to protest, but can’t because he’s laughing too hard, hand at his side over the bandages. Bucky strides quickly into their bedroom, nuzzling his mouth against Steve’s cheek, just feeling the softness of Steve’s unblemishable skin against his lips. When he reaches the bed, he lays Steve out gently, tenderly, with all the care in the world, a hand behind his head to ease him down. Steve’s smiling like he’s transcended onto a higher plane.

Bucky joins him on the bed, lays out beside him and mouths at Steve’s neck, sloppy and imprecise. Steve hums beneath him and brings his hands up to Bucky’s hair, following along as Bucky takes his sloppy, imprecise kisses across his collarbone and down his chest and his stomach to his hips. He’s pulling Steve’s uniform down with his hands and Steve’s scrabbling to help him, planting his feet on the bed to get his ass up to better Bucky’s chances. Bucky smiles and nips at Steve’s skin as a thank-you. They get Steve free of the uniform and free of his boxers – which have _got_ to be uncomfortable under that, he has to be wearing them because he knows that Bucky likes how he looks in them – and Bucky feels desperate suddenly, his desperation like a gaping ravine in the snow-covered Alps.

“Bucky—” Steve starts when Bucky puts his mouth on Steve’s hard cock, but Bucky reaches up to put a metal finger to Steve’s lips and Steve doesn’t say whatever Steve was going to say, just kisses that finger gently on the tip. Bucky moans around Steve’s dick at the touch.

He takes Steve as deep as he can, once, twice, three times before pulling off and kissing Steve between both of their gasps. His puts his flesh hand around Steve’s dick and pulls just the way Steve likes. Steve arches up off the bed, hands fisted, weight on his forearms. Bucky continues pulling, but stops kissing Steve so that he can hear him babble, hear him say Bucky’s name in every octave he can reach and a few he normally can’t.

“Buck, I’m gonna—” he warns finally and Bucky stops, brings his fingers around the base of Steve’s cock like a cockring.

“Promise me you won’t do this again,” he says, panting the words against the hollow of Steve’s throat. “Promise me you won’t hide anymore injuries, that you’ll let medical professionals take a look at you when medical professionals should be taking a goddamn _look_ at you, for fuck’s sake.”

“Buck, come on, that’s,” Steve gasps, twitching beneath Bucky’s hand, hips pushing up. Bucky puts his metal hand on Steve’s chest to keep him still. Steve shudders, but his hips don’t leave the bed again. “That’s dirty pool,” he finally finishes.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, shrugging. Steve doesn’t _have_ to promise. All Steve has to do is say “Ulysses” and Bucky will stop and give him anything he wants, anything he needs. Scene or no scene, their safe word is always on the table. It’s even gotten Bucky out of some conversations he didn’t think he could handle. Steve, on the other hand, has never used it for that. He always tells Bucky whatever he wants to know.

Bucky’s prepared to hear the safe word, will ask for the promise again later in a different way, although probably not a less manipulative one, since that’s more than likely gonna be what it takes. He’s already planning it in his head – “For me, Stevie, please, fucking _please_. I can’t handle you letting yourself get all beat up and not fucking doing anything about it” – that’d almost certainly do it, especially if he turned on the old Bucky Barnes puppy dog eyes that Steve will remember from before the Cyclone on Coney Island. And it’s true besides.

But Steve surprises him, blinking up at him past lust and love and pre-orgasm haze and saying, “I promise, Bucky. I promise.” He takes a steadying breath. “Whether you let me come before I die right here in your hands or not, I promise I won’t worry you like this again.” Steve holds Bucky’s gaze for a moment and Bucky _boils_.

“Please let me come though,” Steve adds a moment later and Bucky drops his head and laughs into Steve’s chest. “Please, please let me come, Buck.”

“Okay,” Bucky murmurs. He leans back up as he starts stroking Steve again, kissing Steve as deep as he can while he does.

And then Steve is coming, totally open beneath Bucky’s hands and mouth and with Bucky’s name on his tongue. He’s more beautiful than god, definitely.

**Author's Note:**

> [come have fun on tumblr with me!](http://www.themartyrsthesaintsthesaviors.tumblr.com)


End file.
